The Chance to Change It All
by xo-little-lotte-xo
Summary: Before Christine was even born, a fifteen year old girl had the chance to change Erik's life forever. What would have happened if she hadn't chosen the alternative? Susan Kay intro and tie-in! Okay if you have not read Kay's Phantom! One shot. Mature only
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, I'm in a writing mood tonight apparently. School starts back up on Monday and I know I won't have much chance to write anything for pleasure until... well, next summer. So I'm getting it out of my system on one of my only days off.**

**This is a one shot phic that will be a couple chapters long, like all my other one shots I've ever written. I know, it's a bit of an oxymoron, but that's how I write. I'm going to try to get it all written and posted tonight, but I might have to extend into tomorrow.**

**To give you a little background info, this is in Persia, Erik is right around 20 years old, give or take a year. This first chapter is completely and entirely from Susan Kay's Phantom. I am NOT plagiarizing! I claim none of the first chapter after the title for my own. I only _wish_ I was such a literary goddess like Madame Kay!**

**This is from the point of view of Nadir, for those of you who have only read Leroux's version, Nadir is the Persian. For those that haven't read any of the books, Nadir is the daroga of Mazenderan. Basically, he's the chief of police for the shah of Persia. The khanum, who is briefly referred to in this excerpt is the shah's mother and since the shah is pretty much a mama's boy, she more or less rules the country and has a rather perverted taste for torture. Naturally, she throughly enjoys what new devices of pain Erik can devise.**

**Past this first chapter, the point of view will change to Erik's and will be entirely my own from then on. It's going to get pretty mature, so please don't read if you're underage. I really to hate being responsible for corrupting innocent minds.**

**So enjoy! Please let me know what you think. And if you hate it, then at least you can go away with the knowledge that you have been blessed enough to read at least a tiny portion of Susan Kay's work.**

_**The Chance To Change It All**_

The girl was an odalisque, a slave of the royal harem who had completed her training as a concubine, but not yet been chosen to serve in the royal bed. There was no greater honour for the shah to bestow upon the favoured servant than the gift of a harem virgin ... the gift of a wife.

When I had stammered my rehearsed piece, here was a deathly silence in Erik's softly lit apartment, a tension that pulled muscle as taut as a bow string.

He stared at the girl with a ravening hunger that the mask could not disguise and his sudden, overwhelming desire was like sheet lightning, shocking in its savage intensity. I saw his shoulders hunch against the pain, his hands lock on his knees and claw upwards into his flesh in a desperate attempt to contain the screaming tyranny of his own body.

When he looked up at me it was with bitter hatred, as though he understood the exact purpose of my presence here tonight.

"Bring her forward," he said.

Erik's voice had lost all its beauty and become a harsh, metallic rasp which made the girl shrink instinctively against the arm of the eunuch who restrained her. She was dragged across the room and thrown at his feet, in accordance with his curt gesture. Rising slowly, like some great unfurling shadow, he leant forward and pulled off the girl's veil to reveal huge eyes edged with antimony, staring up at him with undisguised terror.

"How old are you?" he demanded harshly.

"Fifteen, master." Her voice was barely audible.

"Have they told you what is expected of you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Very well. I have seen what lies beneath your veil, my dear ... now you shall be accorded a reciprocal honour. Come forward and remove my mask."

The girl did not move; she continued to kneel at his feet staring up at him in horror.

"To refuse me now is to refuse the shah himself," said Erik steadily. "If you resist I shall take you by force and then return you to execution at his hands. But only come to me willingly for this one night and I swear you shall go free at dawn. One night buys you the rest of your life and the means to spend it in honourable comfort. And perhaps, after all, that night will not be so terrible as you fear ..."

As he bent to offer the girl his hand, she shrank away, pressing her hennaed fingers together in a desperate gesture of supplication.

"You would rather die than lie with me?" he demanded with pained disbelief. "You would truly rather die?"

The girl collapsed at his feet in a weeping ,hysterical heap and Erik turned from her abruptly, clenching his hands around his arms.

"Take the child away," he said.

The eunuch looked at me in astonishment, expecting guidance, and I went hurriedly across the room to speak in a low urgent tone.

"Apparently you have not understood the custom, Erik," I whispered. "The girl is the shah's gift, a personal token of his esteem. To return her in this fashion would be counted an unforgivable breech of etiquette ... an insult that would never be forgiven."

"Take her away," he repeated tonelessly. "Tell the shah that I have no desire for nubile girls. Tell him I am ... _incapable_ ... of using such a gift. Damn you, tell him whatever is necessary to ensure that she receives no punishment."

I made a sign to the eunuch, who promptly dragged the weeping, hysterical girl from the room. I knew it would not be possible to buy his silence the man would accept whatever money I cared to offer and still run blabbing to the harem with his tale. Malicious gossip was one of the few pleasure left to the frustrated , incomplete male. Whatever I chose to tell the shah when I gave my report, the khanum would most certainly hear the truth.

When we were alone Erik poured a glass of _arak_ with trembling fingers.

"You had better go," he said wretchedly.

I shook my head. "I would like to talk to you first."

He passed one hand across the mask.

"Yes," he said, "that is a right I cannot deny you ... but I should be grateful for a few minutes of privacy now ... just a few minutes alone ... you understand?"

I nodded slowly, turned towards the door and paused to look back at him.

"Erik ... why did you send her away? You desired her and she was yours to use exactly as you pleased. Why risk offending the shah for the sake of a girl who is only a slave?"

He have a great cry of rage, lifted the table in front of him and threw it across the room with a force that splintered the legs asunder from the marble top.

"Only a slave ... only an animal!" he roared. "You asinine Persian dolt ... get out of my way quickly, before I forget all that I owe you!"

I shrank back against the wall as he made for the door, pulling it open with a savage force that tore some of the hinges from the jamb.

As I watched him stride away, with breathless apprehension, I knew that anyone who crossed his path tonight would not live long enough to repent of their folly.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, so I'm not going to get this finished tomorrow, but I promise to try to post, if not the rest, then at least as much as I can tomorrow. I can't see it going past one more chapter, so bare with me on this one and let me know what you think of this Erik. It's definitely a much harsher view of him than we're used to seeing, but that's really the point. This is Erik's lowest of low points really. And that's saying something!  
**

**_Erik_**

I tried to not allow myself to think, to let my mind go blank like the idiotic humans I so often found myself surrounded by had the pleasure of doing. But my brain had never had an idle moment from the day of my accursed birth. I was not even fortunate to have the strains of time affect my memories in any way. I remembered the smallest detail with the utmost clarity.

I knew no matter how I tried - and I would try - that I would never erase that child's face from my consciousness. I could still see her behind my parchment thin eyelids. The look of utter terror on her face was burned, etched with fine precision, into my ceaseless thoughts.

I paid no attention where I was walking, only who was in my way. I was feared beyond the shah here and no one dared to stop me. My fits of rage were almost as infamous as my face - almost.

I walked until I was far from the city, no one ever ventured as far as I had. Persia was hardly a country of dignified men. Any one of then would just as soon slit your throat and steal your purse as they would befriend you and waste their time. Nadir was the one exception I had ever come across since my days as an apprentice for an entirely different sort of master.

When I was sufficiently away from any bystanders, I ripped my foul mask from my devil's face, letting it fall into the course sand beside me as I slid to my knees. My arms wrapped around my chest and I became only passively interested in the horrific, yet mysteriously hypnotic, wail of complete anguish that ripped itself from my dammed soul.

They would kill the girl. I knew no matter what Nadir said, the truth would ironically find its way to the surface. I would probably be killed for it as well. In most things I was above the laws of men and kings, but not even I, the current favoured entertainment for the khanum, could escape reproach from this. It wouldn't come directly, I was sure. They would try to squirm someone in next to me like the worms they were and try to sink the blades into my back.

My only thought on the matter was whether or not I chose to defend myself against it.

_You could leave_, I thought dully, my cold heart still fracturing with every undead beat. _But the daroga would pay the price for it._

As much as I hated myself for it and hated him even more, the Persian's life had become of great concern to me and I would not cause him physical harm. Not even for the inhuman thing he had done. Orders or no, that had been a cruel, twisted joke.

_Like your face, _my thoughts taunted. _Like your life. One giant, sick, cruel joke. _

Did God really have nothing better to entertain Himself than to create a freak and watch how I interacted with every homo sapien He had created in _His_ image?

I had told myself and others many times in my demented life that there was no God. But I had known it was false. All along I knew that there was some sentient being tucked far away in the folds of the firmament laughing at my expense.

I cursed at the unseen puppeteer in the sky. My words were as hot and acidic as the foul air that permeated every inch of this forsaken land. I hurled every insult in every tongue that I had ever learned into the rising abyss. It didn't matter that I knew He didn't care about the mutant He spat upon the earth, it was helping to ebb the pain ever so slightly to feel the harsh words spew with hatred in my angelic voice. The way the consonants clicked and hissed through my teeth created a sufficient enough distraction that my body, still taut and throbbing began to regain some self control.

It wasn't much, but was enough to lift myself from the ground and drag my weary skeleton of a frame back my lavish apartments.

As I drifted deftly through the doors, now swinging awkwardly on their broken hinges, my wretched body, not yet fully relaxed from the incident, hardened masochistically again at the side of her. She was curled up at the foot on my chair, fallen asleep at the foot of an invisible master.

My jaw clenched so tightly my ears had begun to ring. My fists were curled like talons; the skin across my knuckles threatened to rip them at the seams. I was torn in wanting in that instant to choke the miserable life from her fragile little neck and taking her right then and there. Perhaps I would do both.

I was weighing the options of raping her while she screamed and pleaded or taking her as a cooling corpse. Neither sounded extremely appealing, and yet I knew I would do one or the other. Blinded as I was by lust, I would not have the will power to keep her under my spell. That was never what I wanted to use my gifts for. Not that I hadn't been tempted. Nearly every night, it would have been all too easy to keep one girl behind from the others, she would come to me without thought or complaint, but not willingly. She would have no will under my hypnotic voice. I would never have forgive myself for being so primitive. Was it so much to want a woman to come to my bed by her own choice? Not even the little girl I was now visually devouring, trained in the ways of a skilled whore would come to me.

I couldn't think for the life of me why she would be there. If the daroga was so perverted as to think that this would be a good test of my self restraint, he was sadly mistaken.

I looked at the object of my hellish frustrations closely. Her body was so small, so breakable. I would probably snap her in half as easily as I snapped men's necks with my lasso as soon as I touched her.

My fists were like vices, opening and closing again as I imagined them around her delicate, rose petal soft throat. I strode over to her purposefully, savagely ripping my cloak from my shoulders, letting it fall in a soundless puddle of expensive fabric on the floor.

I had her by the neck, pinning her against the wall before she had a chance to open her eyes from whatever blissfully ignorant dream she had been having. She was about to wake to a nightmare from which the only escape was death.

I channeled my anger, my hatred in a murderous calm. I was almost always calm right before I killed. It was too distracting to allow futile human emotions interfere with the utter pleasure of watching someone's life drain from them. I had never killed a woman before, an exception I was willing to make on behalf of the khanum, and the only child I had ever killed had already been in death's arms when I afforded him the peace of a painless end. This would be a new low, even for me, but no other woman or child had ever made me rage more than this young girl.

The scream was trapped under my cold dead fingers when her eyes flew open with a new terror and shock. Her fingers clawed at my wrists, but I felt nothing. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to draw in the breath that would never come.

At the very moment that her wide, frightened eyes rolled back in her head I released my furious grip on her and watched her dully slide to the floor, her body was lifeless, but she was not yet dead.

I had changed my mind at the last minute, no, the last few seconds. I didn't want a corpse. I would take her screaming and flailing. I deserved to hear it every night in my spiteful dreams for what I was about to do to her.

With an annoyed sigh, I picked her up with one arm and with the other forced her chest to expand and open with a fresh burst of oxygen. I touched her only as much as necessary, purely a medical need, then I let her feminine figure fall back to the ground with a thump.

I sat down, watching her intently, waiting for when she would awake to a fate worse then death.

Me.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, okay, I know. It's not 'tomorrow'. My Internet went down and I had to find the time to go to an Internet cafe.**

**On the bright side though, it gave me a chance to draw out some more of the details and make it about a page longer. I hope that's a bright side anyway...**

**School starts tomorrow so I probably won't be posting any new stories, but you all should check out some of the stories I already have submitted here. If you like this one, really look at The Lost Chapters. It's probably one of my favorites and I've really considered making it a sequel. I would stay away from Silent Love. It's not very good and I've got a different version of it somewhere that makes it a million times better. **

**Anywho, thanks for reading to the end! I'd like to give a thank you to A P Reich, who has very kindly been the first to review the first two chapters and also a few of my other things. I really do appreciate hearing from you all.**

It didn't take her long to open her eyes. I had been staring at the rise and fall of her chest, once again steady. Not that I cared. I hadn't been checking to make sure she was breathing. I was memorizing the outline of her breasts against the thin fabric of her harem's garb.

She didn't have much in the way of a figure, I scrutinized. Sure, she had soft lines expanding very slightly at her breasts, concaving at her stomach and rising again at the hips, but she was still just a girl. It would probably be a few years before she even finished developing. A few years that would never come for her.

Her large eyes widened to their extreme when she saw me, shrouded in darkness, gazing with hatred and longing at her. Her hands went automatically to her throat and I smiled slightly beneath my mask. Perhaps she would listen better when she remembered how close she had come to being another number on my long list of deaths.

"Why are you here?" I demanded icily, not betraying any desire.

She jumped at my voice and then moved to a position of practiced humility. "I am here to serve you for your pleasure, master," she replied automatically.

I sneered at her. "I thought you preferred death over sharing my bed." My words were still calm, but filled with pain that I could do nothing to hide. I tried to lace my words with venom, but I was rapidly losing any self control that I had managed to gather while I had waited.

She said something, but her face was pressed into her hands against the ground and not even my sensitive ears could understand her. "Speak up!" I spat, trying not to notice how her position made her backside lift slightly off the ground, tempting me beyond torture.

She lifted herself into a sitting position, feet folded easily under her, head still bowed, her hands, intricately designed with red ink, folded gently across her thighs. "I said," she began in a soft voice that I immediately found annoying. It sounded like a mouse squeaking in the corner and I had to flex my fingers tightly to resist the urge to wrap them easily around her neck again. "that I had decided to ... to die," she struggled with the word. "but as I was waiting with the eunuch outside I heard what you said to the daroga." She instantly folded her tiny body back into a pose of supplication. "I did not mean to listen, master. Your voice carried and I could not help but overhear."

She was begging now. I was sure she had heard that I had killed men for less than the pitiful practice of eavesdropping.

"What of it?" I snapped and she shrank a little closer to the wall, though when she spoke again, I couldn't help but notice the small bit of relief in her voice that she had made it this long without dying.

"I have never heard of someone defending a slave." Her words came out rushed. She was afraid I wouldn't let her finish. But much as I loathed her, I was intrigued by why she would return here. "I never expected to be that you would be the one to stand up for someone as insignificant as myself."

I watched her stonily, my unblinking eyes demanding a continuation of her explanation.

"I wanted to thank you," she stammered, her voice returning to a mouse as she once again pressed her forehead to her hands.

"You would risk my wrath for _that_?" I asked indignantly. "You would return here willingly to die by my hands?"

Her flinching was ever increasing in its annoyance. "The eunuch told me that I would be put in the room of mirrors when the khanum found out." I straightened slightly. I knew what she meant by the mirrors. It was the torture chamber I had designed for the khanum's twisted pleasure. I had even built in a window for her to use for private viewings. I was sure she would find the irony exulting that her gift to me would be destroyed in the gift I had created for her.

The child's words returned me to the moment. "I had hoped you would offer me a less painful death," she admitted and I knew without looking at her that she had begun to cry.

"A quicker death, if nothing else," I promised. The idea of the torture chamber was to drag out the pain and suffering as long as possible, until the occupant could no longer stand it and hung himself in the iron tree. Though I watched one condemned man actually tear through his wrists with his teeth so he would bleed to death instead. I had to admit that even I had found that mildly interesting.

"What would you be willing to do earn a quick death?"

"Anything!" she said before thinking, lifting her eyes to mine, but dropping them just as quickly.

I laughed, the sound distorted and void of any humor. "Anything but what you were trained to do!" I shouted at her. She hugged herself closer to her knees. I walked to a window, already dark with the descending night. I crossed my arms over my chest, working to control my voice.

"My offer still stands," I told her, my voice was again calm, though I raged inside like a sand storm. "Come to me willing tonight and I will give you your freedom with the morning. I will provide you with the means to live quite comfortably. You will want for nothing."

I could almost hear her thoughts turning over and she thought about which possible fate was worse.

"I have an elixir," I told her, knowing that my offer was already discarded from her mind. "It tastes quite pleasant I am told. You would fall asleep quickly and never wake again." When she still did not respond, I continued. "I have another, it is something most fowl. They say it is like drinking your own death, though it doesn't kill you ... not right away. It causes every muscle in your body to burn. You'll start vomiting your own blood and your skin will feel as though a million fire ants are chewing their way through your flesh. It will cause you so much pain that you cannot move. I promise you that the room of mirrors would be a blessed relief from such an end."

My ultimatum was set, though the words had never actually been said.

Her voice was almost lost as I went to retrieve the small bottles.

"Wait," she pleaded. I stopped, but did not turn to her. "I am not afraid of being with you," she lied. Her voice was quivering like a leaf in a hurricane. "I will come to you. I will share your bed."

I didn't dare allow myself something as foolhardy as a hope. "But..?" I asked, knowing that there must possibly be more.

"But please ... don't make me remove your mask..." Her voice was a whisper, too low for an normal human to hear it, but each work struck me perfectly clear.

It was my turn to weigh the options. I knew that she was terrified, no matter what she said. I doubted she would stand still long enough for me to touch her before she was running away from me screaming. My breathing was ragged as I turned slowly, like a tiger sensing his prey. I held out my hand to her, knowing she never would take it, I commanded her, "Come to me."

My heart stopped beating when she rose to her feet with exaggerated care, as though she knew if she moved too quickly I would attack. We stared at each other for a very long moment. I waited for her to bolt for the door. I would be at her throat before she made it halfway there.

But she didn't run. She took a step in my direction and my heart lurched to life. Another step and my breath hitched in my chest. She was watching me closely, though careful to never look at my eyes. I was strangely thankful for that. I knew I could not possibly disguise my lust for her at that point.

She stopped a few paces away from me. When she raised her hand, I stood in shock. She didn't try to fend me off or hit me, she slipped it behind her neck, which I noted had four dark lines forming on one side and a single on the other. I knew that my fingers would match perfectly to the rising bruises. Her fingers pulled at a tie and I gasped as her top came undone and slid to the floor.

Her exposed skin rose and fell rapidly and I wondered how she wasn't hyperventilating from breathing so quickly. Her fingers were shaking as she reached around for her skirt.

"Stop," I demanded, my voice no longer one I recognized. She froze, looking like a little bronze statue.

She squeaked involuntarily as I took a step towards her. My eyes were fixated on the soft, small mounds of flesh. I had seen breasts before, but in pictures and on corpses, never so close and never still alive. I tried to see her from an academic perspective. Tried to convince myself it was out of studious curiosity that drove me to lift a hand touch the gentle curves, but I couldn't hide the fact that my hands were trembling uncontrollably.

The girl held wisely still, but I was certain it was just because she was too petrified to move. My fingers rested a hair's breath away from her, but not quite touching her. I could feel the heat of her body at this distance and it threatened to be my undoing, and therefore her undoing as well.

When at last the backs of my fingers came into contact with her skin, we both gasped. Her gasp was at feeling the the coldness of my flesh, usually reserved for the dead. My gasp was of wonder. I had no idea that anything could possibly feel so soft. She would put a rose petal to shame.

I had the overwhelming urge to feel if the rest of her could possibly be as smooth. My other hand reached forward to slide slowly across her tiny waist.

The beast, always waiting just beneath the surface sprung to life, demanded more. He growled ferociously, but the sound came from my chest, making the girl whimper in terror. That little sound was all it took to make the monster stand on his hind legs and roar, ripping control from my faltering grasp.

In less time than it took to snap a neck, I had spun her around and pinned her against the wall, my body pressing firmly against hers. I had read books on the subject and even spied a few times on lovers, but I knew little more than the mechanics of love making. My body was responding of its own need, calling upon the animal instincts with which every male is born.

My harsh hands were everywhere on her body, groping, crushing, feeling all that I could possibly feel. I slid my hands down her silken thighs, back up again, to the very nexus of her legs. The girl whimpered but then went limp under my explorations. At that precise moment, I didn't care. For all I knew I had killed her with fright. _It wouldn't be the first time_, I told myself miserably, as another image of a young girl flashed through my mind, her mouth open in a silent scream, her backing away from me in shear horror. Too close to the balustrade ... too high up ... too much ...

I gave a cry of disgust and wrenched myself away my victim. I stared at my trembling hands as though they were suddenly foreign objects attached at my wrists. What was I doing? Could I really hurt another innocent girl just to satiate my desires? One hand touched my mask idly. I _was_ a monster.

I felt a delicate tug on my sleeve and looked up with genuine confusion.

"Did I do something wrong?" Her voice wasn't scared anymore, just cautious. Strange. It was like she had stumbled upon a wounded animal that she wanted to help but was worried would lash out at her in its pain. I couldn't understand why she was still standing there. Shouldn't she be running by now?

"Forgive me, my dear," I muttered with absent civility. My head was spinning suddenly, something I could only liken to the human sensation of what it must feel to have blood rushing to the head when they stood up too quickly.

"This was a mistake," I whispered, backing away slowly. "I see that now."

Against all natural instincts of self preservation, she took a step closer to me. "Are you ill?" she asked, actually sounding concerned. I wanted to laugh at myself for being so utterly ridiculous. I was kidding myself if I thought she would care. She was only hoping that I was so she could flee.

"In a matter of speaking, I suppose. If you will pardon me, I think I should retire for the evening."

My breath was eluding me. I knew tonight I would pay for every touch I had forced upon the girl. Without having to even close my eyes, I could see the nightmare unfold. I wouldn't see the Persian beauty, it would be Luciana, cold and dead, her head cracked open like an eggshell, her sightless eyes frozen in revulsion and terror at my face.

Somehow, I made it to my room and collapsed on the edge my grand, ornate bed. I didn't try to listen for the sound of the door that would signal the girl's escape. I couldn't hear anything beyond the pounding of blood in my ears. I buried my hideous face in my skeletal hands and began to do something I had not done in an extremely long time.

I began to cry.

When I felt the flutter of air around my feet, I did not immediately look up. Not even when there was a soft, steady pressure against my knee did I feel the need to discover its reason. It was only when tiny fingers brushed against the back of my hand did I flinch and open my eyes.

I knew then that I had gone certifiable. I was hallucinating now. She was a very good hallucination, as those sorts of things went. Her touch had felt so real. I even continued to feel the pressure as she laid her forehead against my knee again.

"I'm sorry," my illusion muttered. "I didn't see. I didn't understand." Her wide brown eyes looked up at me with sorrow. "I didn't think you could feel pain. But you can, can't you? You're just like the rest of us."

Had I not known the girl was far gone by now, I might had become furious at her comment, but it was pointless to rage against a vision. Of course I was just like everyone else when it came to emotions! I wasn't an animal! But as I looked at her bruised neck, I moaned and turned my head. Yes. I _was_ an animal.

When her fingers began to undo the buttons of my jacket I stared at her hands. Surely, no matter how believable the hallucinations were, they could not undress you! I watched in muted fascination as she undid the last of the buttons and then reached to take off my shoes. It was as far as she could go in removing my clothes while I still remained a sitting statue.

She stood before me and reached for one of my hands. Perplexed, I gave it to her, instantly feeling the warmth of them. I was struggling to make it all make sense. My physical brain said that she wasn't an illusion, while my rational brain knew that she could not possibly be in front of me, holding my cold hand to her face, placing a kiss my palm.

"I know of no other way to take away your pain than the way I was trained," she explained, settling my hand against the delicate curvature of her hip. She untied the thin cords of her skirt and my other hand flashed up to hold it into place.

"You have your freedom," I said simply. "I do not command any more of you."

She hesitated for a moment. I knew there was a war being waged inside of her youthful mind. Finally, she placed a hand on top of each of my own. I could have easily resisted, but I didn't. I was tired. I felt old and withered. I had never felt my age, but was it even possible that I was only a handful of years older than the child before me?

She slid my hands upwards, forcing my fingers to let go of the fabric which instantly pooled around her feet, like a veil being viciously ripped away, my eyes were suddenly opened to the stark reality before me. My mouth went dry and could not seem to find the oxygen in the air, despite the desperate gulps that I was taking in. I would never be going back now. I had remained ignorant before and I should have done well to remain that way. Now there was not a single thread of hope left for my control.

"You have given me my freedom," she said, continuing her explanation of my unasked question. She pushed my jacket from my shoulders, then she slowly pulled my dress shirt from my trousers and began undoing them as well. I felt like she was unraveling myself in the process. "Allow me to try to do the same for you."

When she was again as far as she could go, she slid to her knees with the grace of an angel. Her fingers were still shaking, but not nearly as they had been before. I was trembling far worse than she was as she undid the fastenings of my trousers.

I had never been so exposed before and felt timid in her presence, an emotion that was as foreign to me as joy. I was never so scared, so completely petrified of anyone, as I suddenly was of this girl. I knew in that moment that she had the power to kill me with a look.

When the rest of my clothes joined hers on the floor I truly began to panic. For all my knowledge, this was one subject that could not be revealed without performing it and I realized with shattering realization that suddenly she was the master and I was the stumbling pupil.

The moment her intricately designed hand touched me, I felt as though I had been struck with an entire electrical storm of lightening. I jerked and spasmed and twisted the sheets of the bed so tightly between my fingers that I could feel the stitches begin to rip apart.

But for all that, it was nothing compared to when her lips - her beautiful, perfect lips - covered where her fingers had just been. There was not a single experience I could possibly relate to that exquisite torture. It was so finely balanced on the point of a sword that I could not decide if it was the most precisely tuned pain any human had ever endured or the bliss of paradise. Heaven and Hell had met and I was thrown in the middle of the crushing conflict, trying to decide who was victorious.

She was very well trained in what she did, but I couldn't even bring myself to look at her. My eyes were sealed shut and pointed towards the raised ceiling. I was spiraling downward, unable to stop myself from free falling. A strangled moan forced its way past my clenched teeth.

She rose from her knees and I wanted to whimper like a wounded dog. She placed her hands on my shoulders and forced me to lie down on my back. I was in such a state of pain that I could not resist. Her lips kissed down my chest, her fingers now exploring my body, but with such a feathered touch that I was sure it was a thousand times worse than my hands had roughly grabbed at her.

When she took my hands and placed them on her breasts I had another surge of instinct. My arms wrapped tightly around her and with a lightening fast shift of my weight, I was suddenly the one on top while she lay like a virgin sacrifice under me.

Her hands were still touching, creeping across my chest, around to my back, where her touch encountered the physical scars that barely echoed the internal ones. Her slight intake of breath was filled with sadness and ... pity. It was a new sensation to be directed at me. I wanted to kiss her desperately, but I did not. I lowered my mouth to her neck instead, kissing the lines that I had created with my anger. I regretted my actions so horribly that I knew I would probably never forgive myself for it. Not now. How could I possibly _not _regret anything negative when it came to her now? She was a siren and she was rapidly luring me to my destruction.

When her petite hands traveled far enough down to swiftly wipe away all other thoughts from my mind, I growled in my throat. Worried that I could scare her, I pulled my mouth away from where it was lightly biting and sucking the skin at her collarbone to look into her face, but, to my utter shock, she was smiling. I realized with a sort of fascinated horror that she was thoroughly enjoying being in control of the most powerful man in Persia. And I was the most powerful, despite the shah ruling the country, any knowledgeable man knew that it was the one that whispered in the ruler's ear that held the real power.

When she guided my flesh to hers, I froze. Pain was heightened to a new level and I was fighting the flames that were threatening to consume me. I very slowly pressed into her and our gasps were simultaneous at what we suddenly both realized.

"It's okay," she said after a long period of neither of us daring to move. Her fingers caressed my neck, but I could see the fear in her eyes, hear it in her voice. It was practically tangible. "You'll fit," she promised and we both doubted her words.

I shook my head slowly. "I'll hurt you."

Her face softened slightly as she tried to force a brave smile. "I know. It's supposed to be this way."

I didn't know if that was what she had been taught or if she was merely saying that. I had read that it was usually painful for the woman the first time, but I had never imagined this. I worried I would split her in two, but there was no possible way I could go back. It was a matter of how long I could prolong our pain, not of avoiding it.

I lowered myself another inch and she pressed her lips together tightly, hiding a cry. She wrapped her arms tightly around my chest, burring her face in my shoulder. I kissed her neck once and whispered in her ear, "I'm so sorry."

She nodded her head once, and I plunged myself into her searing fire.

Her scream ripped through me with fury. I welcomed the pain of her nails biting into my back, even knowing that she was drawing blood. Her sobs were daggers and I held her tightly to me, silently letting my own tears fill and be lost in the thickness of her raven hair. She shuddered and shook in my arms, like little seizures wracking her fragile body.

We lay there for a long time. I gave her all the time she needed to adjust, taking the time to curse and berate myself thoroughly. I knew that if I had taken her by force I would have killed her and it would have been the worse murder I could have ever committed.

But she wasn't dead. She was alive and beginning to move under me. Not writhing in pain, but with a strange new rhythm that my body took to quickly. I let her be the one to set the pace until her movements became restless and needing.

I lifted myself up onto my arms, her eyes were still filled with tears but she nodded in encouragement. As gently as I could, I slid out of her a few inches, easing my way back in. She bit her bottom lip, her fingers digging into my arms now. I repeated my actions until we both seemed to gain some control of ourselves.

Slowly, our pace began to increase with some unheard tempo as our bodies began to rock together in a timeless lover's dance. A sheen of perspiration broke out on us both. Her body glowed in the moonlight streaming through the window and I bent my head to her breasts, experimenting with teeth and tongue until she was writhing for a completely different reason.

We moved quickly, clambering for an invisible peak. The rhythm became lost in heated need and we found our release together. We both cried out as we crashed over the edge of world and tumbled endlessly through the folds of time and space.

When at last the universe stilled again and I looked down at the goddess in my arms, I could have cried again at the look of rapture on her face.

With insurmountable reluctance, I forced myself to separate from her. I lay panting next to her while I watched her slowly return to earth.

When she seemed to at least regain enough of herself to remember where she was, her hands were instantly searching. When she found me she did the last thing in the world I would have ever expected. She moved closer to me, resting her head against my chest and breathed a contended sigh.

I didn't know what to do in this sort of a situation so I remained perfectly still. When I felt her chest rise and fall deeply against mine and I knew she was asleep, I wrapped my arms gently, but firmly, around her and joined her in sleep. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I slept without a single nightmare.

The next morning I awoke with the dawn, shocked to see that she was still in my arms. I half expected to wake and realize that it had only been a dream. I brushed my lips across her forehead and pulled myself out of her grasp.

When she finally opened her eyes a few hours later, I was watching her from a chair in the corner of the room, already bathed and dressed.  
Recognition flashed across her face and it was almost as though she were unsure what emotion to choose. Finally, she smiled and stretched like one of the royal cats. I didn't miss the wince she gave in the process.

"I thought you might be hungry before you left," I said, carefully keeping all emotions guarded as I gestured to the tray of food I had laid beside her.

She sat up and began to devour the meal with a ravenous hunger that I found amusing. She slowed down about half way through and looked at me curiously, as though just beginning to understand what I had said.

"Before I leave?" she echoed with confusion.

"Yes," I said steadily, keeping my voice completely devoid of any feelings. "You have fulfilled your end of the agreement and I will uphold mine. You are free to leave."

The look of pain that overcame her, made me want to go to her side and sweep into the protection of my arms. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

"Did I do something wrong?" she finally whispered, her voice catching on the last word. She seemed to be replaying the night before in her mind. "I'm sorry I screamed. I didn't mean to. I promise not to do it again." Her words were suddenly rushed, like a tide rapidly coming in, one sentence beginning before the other could finish.

"My dear child, what on earth would give you the impression that you had done something wrong?" I asked, truly curious.

Her answer was filled with rejection. "You do not want me."

This time I did go to her side, though I was still careful not to touch her. "That is not what I said at all, nor is it true. Quite the opposite, in fact."

When she did not answer or lift her sad brown eyes I felt horribly useless. "Do you not want your freedom?"

She nodded her head slowly. "Yes, I do. But..." Her voice trailed off, tinged slightly with fear of retribution.

"You may say whatever you wish. I promise I will control myself."

She looked at me and it was nearly my undoing. She looked so heartbroken that I wanted to kiss every single hurt away until she was smiling again. Smiling like she been last night while she slept next to me...

"I want to remain here with you." Her voice was no more than a whisper. Safely behind my mask, my face was frozen in shock.

"You cannot mean that," I said, trying to convince myself of my statement more than her.

"But I do," she promised. "I do not wish to be a slave, but neither am I ready to be parted from you yet."

I sucked in a deep breath, feeling the air, with dust that never quite settled, fill my lungs to their capacity. I struggled to keep my voice very calm and even. "Then I will make you another promise," I told her, trying to avoid getting lost in those eyes and failing miserably. "You may stay here for as long as you wish. I will not force you to share my bed again. When you are ready, you may leave. I only ask that you inform me when you wish to depart so that I may wish you a proper farewell."

Her smile was blinding. "Thank you!" she breathed, her cheek reddening as she dropped her gaze, though her smile was still in place. "I do not think I could have left today even if I had wanted to," she admitted, wincing again as she moved over some to allow more room on the bed for me.

I hung my head. "Perhaps I can make you a remedy if you are in pain," I said, thinking about the accompanied soreness she had to be experiencing after the previous night.

A devilish smile tugged at her lips. "There is something that we were taught that might help," she said in a voice that I did not recognize as possibly coming from this delicately bronzed lily. She took my hand in her own and we both seemed to notice that the coldness of my skin was greatly reduced.

If snakes could speak the language of humans, I was quite sure that it would sound like hers did as she looked up at me with smoldering eyes and asked with feigned innocence, "Shall I teach you?"

**A/N: One last comment before I let you all leave. I realize that there might be some odd questions burning in your minds right now, such as, why did the girl never get a name? why does Erik's mood change worse than a woman with PMS? why did he decide against sleeping with her? who was Luciana? ect. Please feel free to email me and I'll explain my reasons. And yes, there is a reason for pretty much everything I said or had my characters say and do. So don't be afraid to ask!**

**I'm pretty sure you can email me from my profile, but if not, I'm going to do the very unwise thing of posting my email address here: . (Yes, I am _that_ obsessed with Phantom of the Opera that this has been my email address for the past 5 years. Though I do have a few others too...)**

**Thank you all again for reading and I really hope to hear from you all soon!**


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